


Bird People

by wildwinterwitch



Series: Cloisters [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwinterwitch/pseuds/wildwinterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Rose celebrate being with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bird People

**Author's Note:**

> set after Doomsday.

The revellers' voices filled the air, their laughter and cries, and music of course. The music changed every so often as I passed the musicians who had positioned themselves at corners, passageways and the mouths of small courts. The different songs flowed into each other and created a melodic background to people's chatter. I contributed to it a little when I moved, the chain of tiny silver bells around my right ankle tinkling with every other step.

His skin was painted blue, and he had been following me through the crowd populating the narrow, labyrinthine streets. Whenever I glanced back, he was there, following me at a distance, dancing his way around the revellers, the street performers, the artistes. He smiled when I cried out in surprise as a magician took my hand and made it spill over with ribbons for the coin I'd given him.

I paused a moment to look back. He was still there, the blue paint shimmering on his skin like velvet in the flickering light of the torches and Chinese lanterns strung high above our heads between the houses. He cocked his head a little, mimicking the bird-like creature he was, with his feathered mask covering his eyes and turning his nose into a small golden beak. The loose-fitting trousers he was wearing were cut off above his knees, and rode precariously low on his hips, held up by a blue ribbon. He was barefoot, and, painted on his left shoulder, I knew my name marked him as mine in the intricate circular patterns of his language.

He was Moro the Bird.

-:-

The first time we returned to Ruul, we both were very aware of the fact that our life as it was could end quite quickly. Weeks before we'd fought the Daleks and the Cybermen alike, and I had lost Mum. She was safe with Pete in a parallel universe, but there was no travelling between the two worlds once the Doctor had sealed the breach in the wall separating our worlds. The memories of being torn – literally torn – from him and into the Void were still very vivid.

Also, I had chosen him over Mum. The idea sickened me sometimes, and I felt like the worst daughter in all of creation, but most of the time I knew it had been the right decision. Mum would be happy with Pete, I hoped. But the truth was, and Fenia had told me that too, that Mum had lost me as soon as I'd taken the Doctor's hand.

We stayed at Sho with Tayar and Fenia. The TARDIS sat in the neighbouring park just outside Sho, and we were occupying the tower room. We could have stayed in the TARDIS, but Tayar and Fenia wouldn’t hear of it.

We had just arrived in time for kivuala. Unlike the Burning of the Shawl, which celebrated the renewal of all kinds of relationships, the kivuala festival was about celebrating life. It all went back to a terrible disease that had cost thousands of lives in and around Lufana. This had been so long ago, and the disease so unique that today no one knew for sure what had really happened. Many of the original sources had been destroyed during the Wars, and most of the information available on it now was fragmented and contradictory, more legend than history. All that had remained of those days was kivuala, a festival not unlike Earth's carnival. Part of the revels was, of course, the celebration of love and life.

“Sex,” the Doctor said rather bluntly over lunch after Fenia had broached the subject.

Tayar blushed fiercely, while I spluttered into my watered-down wine.

“Yes, that's essentially what it's all about,” Fenia said nonchalantly. “And we're going to enjoy every minute of it.”

Poor Tayar flushed an even lovelier shade of red.

“Should be fun then,” the Doctor said, and I briefly wondered if I was dreaming. This side of the Doctor was completely new to me, despite all the time we had spent together. But then I realised that part of it was the Doctor's sense of adventure and the need to remind himself of what life was all about. The time between the Battle of Canary Wharf and our arrival at Lufana had been tense.

When Fenia had first mentioned kivuala it sounded like a lot of fun, but also quite bawdy and prurient. I wasn't sure if that was what I wanted, how I wanted to celebrate our love. However, Fenia soon put my misgivings to rest. There were rules that had to be observed, from lessons learned long ago.

“What you do is pick a couple from one of our stories and legends. You wear a costume that represents them. You start celebrating separately, with friends. During kivuala you have to find your sovvalu, and to make sure you don't end up with the wrong person, you have to show each other your tattoo,” Fenia had explained.

“Additionally, it's become a tradition that your spouse's name be painted quite visibly on your skin,” Tayar had added. There were, of course, parties and parts of the city that were a bit more libertine, but our friends strongly advised us to avoid those.

The Doctor took my hand and looked at me, grinning.

Although my mind was still reeling, I nodded in agreement.

Later, in the privacy of our bedroom, he asked me if it was all right with me. We were lying, naked, in the bed to escape the midday heat. “I'd very much like to celebrate kivuala,” he said. “I could have lost you That Day. And we haven't celebrated properly yet.”

That Day. The day I had nearly fallen prey to the Void.

Apart from making love, the point of the celebrations was to remind everyone to take nothing for granted. The Doctor and I were often so giddy with happiness and got so lost in each other that the occasional reminder was more than welcome.

“Did you have a particular story in mind?” I asked, curling into him beneath the covers. It was the beginning of Ruulim summer. The days were hot already, but nothing at all like they had been when we'd crash-landed.

“Nope,” he said, twisting away from me to reach for a book on his bedside table. “But I thought we could spend kitallun finding ourselves the perfect story.”

-:-

In the days of my grandfathers' grandfathers lived a man called Moro. As a prince he had nearly everything he could wish for, except one thing. He’d never found love. No girl, or boy for that matter, had ever managed to capture his heart. Everyone around him, his friends and brothers and sisters found someone to love. And so he thought that he was incapable of loving anyone.

He went away from his home to wander the countries that neighboured his family's realm, and far beyond that, but he never found what he was looking for. There came a point when he didn't even know what it was he was searching for, but still he kept travelling. He learned a lot during his journey.

The day after he had decided it was time go home, he met a girl. Her name was Laia, and she asked him to dance with her at the village festival. So he danced with her, thinking that he hadn't danced in a long time and that he missed it. They danced the whole night, and when he finally took her to her house, he found he didn't want to leave her.

He went back to her house the following evening, but the door was locked and a neighbour told him that she had left. Where to he was unable to tell Moro. Moro was heartbroken. He knew he shouldn't have left Laia, and now she was gone.

He looked for her everywhere, but he didn't find her. Eventually, he returned home. He knew that he could love – for that was what had made him look for Laia – but he also knew that he would never love anyone but her.

When Moro's father died he didn't take his crown, but passed it on to his oldest sister. During the celebrations of her coronation, a man approached Moro. The man had seen Laia, among the Bird People of the Vastness. She was one of the Lost; Bird People who lived in the lands outside the Vastness. She hadn't known she was one of the Bird People until a Shepherd Bird had found her and taken her home the morning after the village festival.

Moro set off for the Vastness, a rolling plain farther away than Moro had travelled before. When he finally reached the edge of the Vastness, he settled down and rested. He was so exhausted he slept for four days, and when he woke, he found he had been taken to a village of the Bird People.

“Where is Laia?” he asked as he woke.

The elderly lady who had taken care of him led him to Laia's house.

“Please go,” Laia said when she saw Moro.

“But why? I have come all the way from my home for you. I love you, Laia,” Moro said.

“I love you too, Moro, but my home is here and I cannot leave. I'm one of the Bird People. I belong here.”

The Bird People made him welcome for as long as he wanted to stay. He couldn't just leave, not now that he had found the love of his life. But neither could he be with Laia; the Eldest made that unequivocally clear. Soon he realised that both of them were unhappy, and he knew that he had to let her go.

“You're giving up?” the Eldest asked him as he reached the edge of the village.

“No,” Moro said, squaring his shoulders. “I love her. That's why I'm leaving. I'm caging her, and that's not a life for one of the Bird People.”

The Eldest smiled. He bade him follow him into his house, where he gave him a beautiful mask of feathers and gold, and a jar of blue paint. “Come join us for the festival tonight.”

Moro the Prince became Moro the Bird, and he and Laia lived together happily until my grandfathers' days.

-:-

I held out the ribbons, and strangers came up to me without hesitation to tie them around the tattoo on my right wrist. Some of them were bold enough to touch my shimmering skin and my hair. I had swept it up in a tight coil before I had put on my mask. The feathers that adorned it were the same colour as my hair, and they were like a hat; a hat so snug that it looked as if the feathers changed into hair. Fenia had painted the Doctor's name on my skin at the base of my neck where everyone could see it.

“Laia,” some of them whispered, recognising my costume. “Laia fiyolian,” someone said, trailing his fingers along my shimmering skin. I had used a lotion that left behind the shimmer of mother-of-pearl as it soaked into my skin. “Beautiful Laia.”

I shivered as I felt fingers trail over the Doctor's name at the base of my neck, and someone was daring enough to lean in and kiss my cheek. “Laia fiyolian. Go find your lover.”

The ribbons tied, I whirled around, looking for the Doctor, looking for my Moro. We weren't the only ones who had chosen Laia and Moro, but we stood out – the Doctor for his height, and I for my colouring. I spotted him as he emerged from a bunch of costumed and masked people around a drinks stand. He toasted me with the cup of wine he'd just purchased, then bowed elegantly.

Fenia found me and slipped her hand into mine. She was wearing a long flowing gown with a plunging neckline and a simple domino mask that reminded me of the ones I'd seen in Venice. Her skin was a deep red, and she looked like sin personified.

“Laia fiyolian,” she whispered, tracing her finger along my cheek and down my neck. “He's found you.”

“Yes,” I breathed, “but... he's playing with me.”

“That's the point. But two can play at that game,” she purred, pressing her body closer to mine. “Do you trust me, fiyolian?”

I nodded, my heart beating faster. Fenia raised her fingers to my lips, teasing me with a grape she'd plucked from a bunch offered to her by a stranger. I shrank back at first, but then I saw the glint in her eyes, and I played along. When she ran the grape along my lips, I parted them, tilting my head slightly. “He's catching on,” Fenia whispered close to my ear.

“Good,” I replied, trailing my fingers along her cheek.

Fenia pushed the grape into my mouth, her fingers following and pulling gently at my bottom lip when she withdrew them. A shiver coursed through me as I chewed and swallowed the fruit. Fenia feathered her fingers along my jaw and down my neck, stopping just short of the swell of my breast. “Fenia,” I breathed.

“It's okay, Rose,” she whispered, and then she kissed me. Just a touch of lips on lips, the gesture alone innocent, but oh so erotic against the backdrop of kivuala. I stilled, a jolt of desire shooting through my body, and suddenly she was gone.

I blinked in surprise. She had disappeared, the press of her lips on mine still tangible. I looked around but she was nowhere to be seen, and I subconsciously touched my mouth. Then I spotted the Doctor. His fingers were curled around the cup, and his whole body radiated tension. His lips formed a thin line in the flickering light, but he didn't move.

I smiled at him before I continued on my way. The revels we were attending took part in the oldest part of Lufana, which was made up of a maze of narrow streets and alleys, with courtyards and small squares suddenly opening and offering music or food or a quiet corner. Fenia and I would still cross paths sometimes to check on each other. Tayar was following her, and the Doctor was following me. The anticipation was exquisite, and after I'd had some wine – still watered down, much to the amusement of the stall holder – I began to relax and dance and not flinch at the good-natured attention of the other revellers.

After Fenia's kiss I reached a small square that offered enough space for dancing. The rhythm of the music there was captivating and I began to move in time with it. Yet I took care not to let the Doctor out of my sight. He seemed to get some attention himself. Men and women alike were feathering their fingers along his blue skin, taking his wrist and examining his shoulder for any mark. He was reluctant at first, but I saw him relax as I danced. He never, however, encouraged the revellers to do more. He never leaned down or tilted his head to accept a kiss.

His eyes were riveted on me. I could feel them, and I opened up to him a little, to let him know everything was all right. One sentence filled my mind in return, Sowaitu shog ra fionn. Don't leave me. I stilled, shaking my head. I could never leave him.

Ngudia’sa lam su mich’t, I returned. His fear that I didn't love him any more broke my heart, and for a moment I was tempted to end our game.

Whatever it was that had roused his fear, it was gone as fast as it had surfaced, and the Doctor had closed himself to me.

The Doctor raised his cup again, bowing at me with a soft smile.

Hands touched me, urging me to dance. Obeying the hands, I curtsied to the Doctor. I was wearing a short, silken nightgown. Knowing how much the Doctor loved to see my back, I had picked it up in London a while ago. The thin straps crossed just below my shoulder blades to hold the silk up, leaving my back bare down to the swell of my hips. It was perfect for kivuala, and I was glad I'd remembered it when Fenia and I had agonised over what to wear.

I lost myself completely in the music, which was at times pounding powerfully, at others flowing gently. Tayar and Fenia drifted past me, their hands clasped firmly already. It wouldn't be long before they'd claim each other anew. I smiled at them as I moved to the music, hardly able to let go of Fenia's hand as she briefly touched mine.

“Soon, Laia fiyolian, soon,” she said to me in a lilting voice.

“Go to Sho,” Tayar whispered in my ear as he moved behind me, his lips very close, his fingers trailing down my neck. I shivered at his touch; the gesture was so totally unlike him that I couldn't help feeling pleasure at how alive and sensuous he was that night. “It's yours again for the night.”

“Thank you,” I managed, kissing his cheek lightly.

Fenia and Tayar left then, and I turned around to look for the Doctor. He was closer to me than he had been all night, holding out a cup for me. I loosened one of the ribbons on my arm and tied it around the Doctor's outstretched wrist before I accepted the cup. He beamed at me, but then he ducked his head in thanks. This was all part of the game. I had to claim him with the ribbons around his wrist, and this was the first one.

I drank more deeply than was prudent, but the night was too beautiful, too fantastic to care about that now. I gave him back the cup and turned to walk on. Together, and yet apart, we kept strolling through the maze and my Moro bought me fruit and one of the sirapa cakes that were only made for kivuala. They were balls of fluffy dough filled with a generous dollop of jam, or, in my case, my favourite sweet spread and rolled in powdered maklak. The first pieces of fruit I would gingerly pick from between his fingers with my teeth, ensuring not to brush them with my lips, but the more he gave me, the bolder we became. Once there was only one ribbon left – I tied one after the other around his wrist – I enveloped his fingers with my lips and swirled my tongue around them.

He leaned down to me then and whispered, “Ildiem tu faronn.”

A shiver of want ran through me, but I felt that I had to make him beg one more time. I ducked my head and danced away from him, avoiding looking in his eyes. They were hidden in the shadows of his mask so I couldn't have seen them, but I knew the expression in them too well.

-:-

We saw Tayar and Fenia once or twice as we played our game, but we were oblivious to most of the world around us. What mattered was the space between us, filled with tension and eroticism as it was. We danced together, around each other, never touching, only watching, teasing. I was transfixed by the way the Doctor's muscles moved beneath his blue skin, and on more than one occasion I was very tempted to reach out and touch him, to feel his painted skin. There would come the point when I'd finally have to claim him, when the game would be over.

Fenia had assured me that there was no rule regarding that, except that it was up to the Doctor and me to set the pace. The anticipation was exquisite, and I enjoyed the dancing and the atmosphere too much to give in and ask the Doctor to kiss me. With my lips on his I would lay claim to him, and that was when he'd take me to Sho. Fenia had warned me that there would be couples who would not wait to consummate their passion until they reached the privacy of their homes. The idea held a certain appeal and it excited me more than I cared to admit but there was no way we would make love in a public place, even if it was in the shadows of an alley or the mouth of a doorway.

Eventually, the Doctor approached Fenia when we saw her, and he ran his hands along her body without ever touching her. I saw her shiver at the gesture and I felt a rush of desire pool low in my stomach. Fenia tilted her head up in anticipation as the Doctor bent his head to hers. I stood very still, shivering as I pressed my thighs together. Then Tayar stepped in, touching Fenia's cheek to turn her lips toward him. She touched the Doctor's chest and pushed him gently away as she twisted away from him and lay claim to Tayar.

I turned away to steady myself.

“Laia fiyolian,” the Doctor whispered close to my ear, and I could sense his fingertips hovering over his name in the nape of my neck. “Ildiem tu faronn. Rovalionn ti.”

“Yes,” I breathed, turning. He was begging me now, and I couldn't refuse him any longer, not when he verbally fell to his knees like that. “Yes, Moro.”

The roar of laughter and whoops rushed through me as we finally kissed and I felt the dampness build between my legs.

Sho wasn't far from the oldest part of town, and so our street was full of people. There weren't as many people as in the maze of the Old Town, and things were certainly tamer, but still the atmosphere was charged and the air was full of spices, laughter and music. Once, the Doctor lifted me up by the waist and whirled me around to a particularly vivacious piece of music. I threw back my head and laughed. I couldn't wait for him to make me fly.

Once inside Sho's cloister, he bade me close my eyes. His bare feet were almost inaudible on the tiles as he hurried away. I could hear the faint whir of the sonic, and I knew that he was lighting candles. He never used matches, having burnt his fingers one too many a time – he was just too clumsy with them, a notion that amused me a great deal.

As I closed my eyes I was suddenly very aware of the silk on my skin and the porous tiles beneath my feet. The scents of the nocturnal garden soon began to engulf me. The garden was in full bloom, and some of the flowers exuded a sweet, heady scent, like the trees outside. It was a mix of acacia, plane trees, herbs and something that resembled jasmine.

The Doctor stood close behind me when he said, “You can open your eyes now, Rose.”

The whole garden was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. Fires were burning in the three braziers in the centre of the garden. There were even a chandelier and some Chinese lanterns in the branches of the tree dominating the garden, the flames steady in the still air. Above us, the starry sky was like a heavy velvet canopy. The night was full of soothing noises – birds, crickets, even the revellers in the street. “We've never made love in the garden, Rose,” he whispered, encircling me from behind, his arms resting just below my breasts.

“We kissed in the rain,” I said, turning slightly. He nuzzled my cheek.

“Oh yes,” he sighed.

I wiggled my bum against him to feel his solid length in my lower back. He whimpered a little and his right hand wandered between my legs, pressing the silk against the lace of my knickers. It was my turn to whimper. I would have liked for him to make love to me right then and there, and so I suggested that we move to the bed he had made for us in the centre of the garden.

“Not yet, Rose,” he whispered. “Not yet.” He pushed his fingers beneath the hem of my nightie and followed the pattern of the lace with his fingertips, caressing me ever so lightly. I turned in his embrace as much as I could and tilted my head so he could lean down and kiss me. Distracting me with his clever tongue he slipped first one finger inside me, then a second. I bucked against him, crying and slumping against him. “I've wanted to do this all night long, so badly,” he whispered, a triumphant smile lacing his voice.

He began to move his fingers inside me and over me, and the only purchase I could find was in the material of his trousers and the blue muscle of his arm that was clutching me to him. Eventually, I needed air and he took the opportunity to move us against a decorative column, giving me something to hold on to. He picked up his rhythm and stopped kissing me. Now that I had something to support myself on he let go of me to cup my left breast through the silk. The combination of his malialion fingers and the silk, his thumb and forefinger teasing my nipple, sent a rush of pleasure to my core, and with just another flick of his fingers over my clit I came with such intensity that the world went blank around me as I sobbed convulsively.

He caught me as my legs gave out, gently lowering me onto the warm tiles. He rocked me, taken by surprise at the intensity of my orgasm. When he pressed his lips to my head, he kissed the feathers of my mask, and I suddenly realised that we were still wearing them.

“What's just happened, Rose?” he asked, withdrawing so he could look at me.

“I'm... I...” I was still struggling to breathe evenly, and as I pressed my thighs together I could feel the tenderness and the damp as the material of the knickers brushed against my folds.

“Rose?”

“'s what you do to me. The whole night, it's been... mad and sexy and...” Again, I was lost for words. It was the atmosphere, my joy at being alive and with the Doctor, the eroticism of it all, and, of course, the wine. I don't think I'd ever felt as light-headed.

He stroked my bare cheek and my chin, tracing the contours of my lips with his fingers before kissing me, gently first, then deepening the kiss. I could feel his cock pressing into my thigh, and I moved my leg a little to give him some friction. I was promptly rewarded with a groan, and thus distracted, the Doctor broke the kiss. I trailed a line of kisses along his jaw. His blue jaw.

He was still covered in the blue paint. I tasted him, in various places, his jaw and that spot below his ear, the indentation at the base of his neck, his shoulder, the inside of his elbow, the tattoo, his palm. It was a heady mixture of Doctor and the dusty night. There was only a faint trace of the paint that made him taste and smell slightly different. It added warmth to his scent, mixed with something spicy I couldn't name. I loved it.

“You,” I said, emphasizing every word with a kiss to his fingertips, “Taste, feel, smell delicious.”

He groaned softly, and his head fell back against a column as I sucked the two fingers that had given me such pleasure into my mouth. The mix of us was heady, so I quickly released him, shifting between his knees so I knelt facing him. I knew I wouldn't last long on the unforgiving floor, but teasing him was just too tempting.

“Rose...” he groaned, withdrawing his fingers from his mouth. I swear I saw the darkness in his eyes. “Please, ildiem tu faronn. Rovalionn ti.”

“Soki,” I replied, rocking back and up onto my feet. I swallowed as I saw his cock straining against the loose material of his shorts. Holding out my hand for him, I whispered that I wanted him too.

I turned away as he got up, and went slowly out into the garden. He followed me at arm's length, the fingertips of one hand pressed against my bare back so he could feel as well as see the muscles move as I walked. I looked back at him over my shoulder, wanting to smile seductively, but his reverence was so overwhelming that I put all my love for him into my smile.

“You're amazing, Rose Tyler,” he said softly.

I knelt on the mattress and moved toward its centre. He followed me, stopping me with both his hands on my waist. “Do you mind if... if we keep the masks on, for a little while?” He moved so he was kneeling behind me with one leg between mine, his hands moving down over the silk to my hips.

I shook my head. I found the idea of making love to him like this, after he'd chased me and I'd claimed him, after the secrecy and games, very alluring. He turned towards me a little, letting me go just enough so he could kiss me, deeply.

“What do you want?” I asked after we'd broken the kiss. I licked my lips. His were still blue. The paint didn't come off, even after all the kissing we'd done, not even from his warm, damp skin.

His reply didn't come at once. “Take off your knickers.”

He let go of me so I could get up to take them off. His hands were on my thighs and moved to my bum, caressing me as I discarded them carelessly. I let him, trying to control my breathing as he cupped my sex with one palm from behind, pressing his fingers against my clit. Eventually he pulled me down on my knees again and bent to nuzzle my shoulder and neck as his hands drifted to my stomach and breasts, touching me gently through the material of the nightie. “Tam shia ngarthu,” he murmured, nibbling at my earlobe. His breath was cool on my skin, and I shivered. He let go of me for a moment, and I heard the rustle of fabric. Then he wrapped his arms around me again.

I rested my hands on his arms so he could move where ever he wanted. Leaning back against him, I noticed that he had shucked his shorts, and I reached behind me with one hand to touch his naked thigh. “Doctor,” I whispered, turning my head. “Yamu'sati.”

I was rewarded with a kiss, and then his right hand moved beneath the silk, his left hand cupping my breast in a mirroring gesture. I moaned, dropping my head against his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“I want you from behind, like this,” he whispered, making me spread my legs a little to grant him access. He removed his hand to guide his cock between my folds. “Please.”

“Yes,” I hissed, shifting to accommodate him. He slid inside me with one powerful thrust, lifting me off my knees a little. I moaned, flailing as I sought for purchase, for support. I sighed as he pulled out, leaving me almost entirely, making me long for more.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered, strengthening his hold around me with both arms.

“Yes, yes,” I said, touching myself through the silk at first, then slipping my hand beneath the fabric as he shifted and then set a rhythm. He punctuated every thrust with a groan, his breath brushing my shoulder in cooling puffs. I tried to match his rhythm, but it became so powerful that I found it difficult to balance. I pushed back at him, first to meet his thrusts, but eventually we shifted so I was riding him as he knelt, driving himself into me as best he could. I wanted to see him so badly, but just as I was about to say something, or to at least catch his attention, he found a slightly new angle with which he drove me to completion.

With a sharp cry, I fell forwards onto my hands, three heartbeats pounding in my ears. He leaned forward as I fell, pressing his palm against my back, digging his fingers into my skin as he strained to find his own release. The Doctor cried out as I clenched around him. He stilled for a moment, spilling himself into me, before slumping forwards, his breath cooling my back. I stayed like that, enjoying his weight and warmth as he rested against me, trailing his fingers up and down my arm, showering my shoulder with kisses.

“Fiteo tu sirati, ngarthu sam?” he asked after a while.

“Yeah,” I managed. “You're gettin' a bit heavy.”

“Sorry,” he said, and, planting a kiss at the base of my neck, on his name, he withdrew and I climbed off his lap. I collapsed onto the mattress and the pillows, laughing softly.

He cocked his head. “What?”

“You're still blue.”

“Oh. Yes. Well. I'll be for another while yet.”

“Unless we have a bath,” I suggested, reaching out for him to lie down beside me.

“No use, the paint simply fades. It'll be gone by morning. Or so the stall holder claimed.”

I laughed, cupping his jaw and kissing him. “You'll look like a smurf.”

“Oi!”

“Or a... a tie-dyed Time Lord,” I giggled. “If it fades unevenly.”

His expression of sheer horror, so perfect even without being able to see his widened eyes, made me laugh even more. “Come here,” I said, stifling my laughter. I sat up, gestured for him to turn around so I could undo the fastenings of his mask. I finally needed to see him. Besides, cuddling would be so much better without it. The mood was broken now anyway.

He did the same for me, and then we lay down with his head pillowed on my stomach. Drawing my fingers through his damp hair, we lay in silence for a while, listening to the nocturnal sounds, looking up to the chandelier in the boughs of the tree and the stars beyond.

The Doctor sat up, startling me. I'd dozed off. “Rose.”

“Yeah?” I sighed, touching his arm.

“I... I've never been as happy as I am with you.”

“Oh.”

“Thank you, for being my wife. For staying with me.”

My heart was pounding. There was nothing I could say. “C'me here,” I said, pulling him down to me for a kiss. “Semrath ngudia tu ki faro?”

He swallowed, moving aside in bewilderment as I sat up. I pulled my nightie up and over my head, tossing it aside. “Then I'll show you, yamu'sati sam.” I knelt, straddling him, taking his face in my hands to gently kiss him. He moaned as I begged entrance with my tongue, and he let me kiss him.

As I deepened the kiss, he lay back, and for once he gave himself over to me without me having to ask him for it. A little while later, his moans and cries filled the garden as the firelight danced on his shining blue skin.

-:-

His skin had taken on its pale, freckly Time-Lord colour when we woke early the next morning. There was a slight chill in the air and I snuggled up closer to him as he lay behind me under the duvet. The fires and most of the candles had exhausted themselves during the night. The sky above us was a pale rose and blue colour, and the first birds began to fill the air with their song.

I was wonderfully sore from all the love-making of the previous night. We had fallen asleep at some point, and then woken to make love once during the night, when the candles had nearly burned down and the fires were reduced to glowing embers in their baskets.

“Rose?” the Doctor mumbled behind me, brushing a sloppy kiss against my shoulder.

I turned to lie facing him. “Good morning, my love,” I said, running my fingers over his stubble and his pale, freckled skin. We hadn't been to Lufana in a while, and travel in the TARDIS had made his skin fade. Now that it had lost its lovely, velvety blue colour and the feeling to match, I felt a touch of nostalgia overcome me. It would never be like this again.

“What's wrong, Rose?” he asked, his brow knitting as he noticed the shift in my mood.

“We'll never have this again, will we?”

He looked startled. “Why?”

“It was so... beautiful and perfect,” I said softly.

“That it was. But we'll have other beautiful and perfect nights like this.”

“Promise?”

He sighed. I knew he couldn't promise something like that, and I tried not to dwell on the fact that we nearly wouldn't have had this night.

“I love you, Doctor.”

He smiled. “Quite right too.”

That night, after we had enjoyed a bath together, he presented me with a tiny pendant. It was a silver mask, covered with feathers just like ours. “I had this made for you,” he said. “To remember last night.”

Laia's and Moro's masks, however, sat beside each other on the shelf in our bedroom, never to be used again.


End file.
